Sunlit Days
by Glisseo
Summary: The upcoming Hogsmeade trip isn't exactly a source of comfort to Ginny ...


Before I know it, it's November.

The first two months have passed in a blur of Quidditch and coursework, of long nights in the library, of waiting eagerly for the post every morning. I've had teachers, friends, and complete strangers giving their condolences, asking if I'm all right, watching me like they reckon I'm going to burst into tears at any second. I've had girls rush up to me in corridors and ask if it's true I'm going out with Harry Potter - _the _Harry Potter! The second one I can answer with a smile, at least.

About once or twice a week, an owl - different each time - will drop a letter on my lap, every time addressed in the same narrow handwriting. They come at breakfast with the other post, in the common room when I'm doing my homework, and once or twice during a lesson. And every time, my heart skips a beat, and my day, whatever it was like before, suddenly becomes much better. The letters are full of excited tales of Auror training and reforming the Ministry, of the long search for a place to live with Ron, of _I miss you _and _I can't wait to see you_s. Each one is like a piece of sunshine or a kiss, warming my heart.

On the days when the weather's bleak and I've had to go along the corridor where my brother died, I sit in my dormitory long into the night, re-reading the letters by candlelight, seeking the comfort they bring.

Nothing a letter gives, though, can possibly compare to seeing him in person.

When the notice goes up in the common room about the first visit of the term to Hogsmeade, I waste no time in scribbling the date in my latest letter and sending it off. When the reply comes, however, there's no mention of my suggestion that he see if he can make it up to Scotland. I read it several times, searching the words for some hidden meaning, perhaps, something I missed the first time, but each time I come to the end of the letter, bitterly disappointed. For the first time, his love and signature give no comfort.

Hermione's words are just as disappointing, as true as I know they are.

"I expect he's just really swamped with work," she says, the day before the Hogsmeade trip. "Ron says Robards is really putting them through their paces - he knows they can do it, I suppose. But I know they'll be exhausted, what with the press hounding them all the time as well."

"I suppose," I sigh, wishing she wasn't quite so sensible and down to Earth. "I just really wanted to see him ..."

"Christmas isn't that far away," she says, watching me with an odd look on her face. Feeling sorry for me, probably. "You will still come to Hogsmeade, won't you? Luna and I are going. It'll be nice to get out of the castle for a bit."

"I don't know ..."

"Please, Ginny? It won't be any fun without you," Hermione wheedles. "You'll feel better for it, I promise!"

Eventually, I grudgingly agree, but the next day, I'm still feeling low. It's a cold, grey, damp day, and all I really feel like doing is going back to bed with comforting thoughts of Christmas and maybe stolen moments under the mistletoe. At Hermione's pleading look, though, I dress and head down to breakfast with her, where Luna is waiting at the Gryffindor table.

"Hello," she greets us brightly. "Horrible weather, isn't it? Although, you know, it's probably for the best. Wrackspurts hate rain ..."

"_What _do?" Hermione splutters over her coffee. Luna starts to explain, but I'm not paying attention - Dean Thomas is passing, hand in hand with Scarlett McLeod, a Hufflepuff from my year. Dean sees me looking and waves, but I can only manage a weak smile in return. It feels so - so _unfair_. I've never even been on a proper date with my _boyfriend_, for crying out loud.

It's almost a relief to escape the Great Hall, full of couples giggling and loudly planning visits to Madam Puddifoots. Filch, scowling, is waiting to sign people out in the Entrance Hall.

"You'd better not come tracking mud back over my clean floors, now!" he snaps, as he crosses my name off the list. "I've seen you, coming off the Quidditch field! What are you smirking at, girl? Go on, get out!"

_At least someone else is in a bad mood, _I think morosely, trudging down the steps. Cold wind slices at my face, and I keep my head down as we head down the drive, barely listening to Luna and Hermione's discussion about the new, reformed Ministry.

"... could be a conspiracy," I hear Luna say cheerfully. "We'll have to wait, I suppose. Ooh, is that who I think it is, at the gates? How lovely, I didn't know he was coming, did you, Ginny?"

My head snaps up. Through the drizzle, I see a tall, thin figure, leaning against the gates, the dark untidy hair unmistakeable.

Before I know it, I'm running, as fast as I can, skidding on the wet ground, exhilaration and joy thudding in my heart - and then I'm there, flinging myself at him, his arms holding me tight and lifting me off the ground. I bury my face in his neck, breathing in his wonderful scent, feeling his heart pounding beneath my own.

All too soon, he sets me back on my feet. The wind is nothing now - I barely feel it. I gaze up into his face, taking in every detail: _those _green eyes, that smile, the light stubble dotting his jaw ...

"What are you _doing _here?" I whisper eventually.

Harry grins down at me.

"I was always planning to come," he says. Each word is like a firework in my chest. "But I wanted it to be a surprise. Hermione helped ..."

"She _knew?" _I turn to her, but she and Luna have disappeared into the mist. I'll have to thank her later. Thank her, and give her bloody grief for putting me through all that.

"Of course," Harry says, winking. "Come on, it's freezing. Want to go and get a Butterbeer?"

I can't think of anything I'd rather do.

The Three Broomsticks is delightfully warm and bright after the cold. Harry pulls a hat down over his scar and adjusts his scarf so it covers the lower half of his face as we make our way through the crowd, and no one looks at him twice.

I nab a table in the far corner, away from everyone else, and Harry goes to the bar and returns a few minutes later with two tankards of foaming Butterbeer - a picture of perfection. I smile gratefully at him as he passes one to me, and takes the seat next to me. His hand finds mine, and all of a sudden, the Butterbeers are forgotten, as I lose myself in his gaze.

"God, you don't know how good it is to see you," he says after a minute, laughing and reaching for his mug. "Every time I got a letter from you, I'd have to stop myself from jumping in the fire and going straight to the common room ... it's been -"

"Torture," I finish, nodding. "Absolute torture. I still can't believe you're actually here."

"Want me to prove it?" Harry asks, a mischevious glint in his eyes, and before I can reply his lips are on mine, and I find it even harder to believe that I managed two months without him.

We while away an hour in the pub, drinking, chatting, and exchanging news. I don't really care what we talk about - all I care about is that he's _here_.

When our mugs are empty, he raises his eyebrows at me.

"Fancy a walk?"

"You're mental," I tell him, but I let him take my hand and tow me out into the street. The rain is light, but it's still freezing, and when Harry puts his arm around my shoulders, I press myself into his side, trying to get warm. We stroll aimlessly up the high street, past witches and wizards hurrying by with their hoods pulled over their heads. I wonder briefly where we're going, but then decide I don't really care.

It isn't until we reach the gates that I realise we're back at Hogwarts. "What -?" I begin to ask, but Harry just shakes his head and tugs me gently off the drive, across the grass and round the side of the castle, until he stops, where the grass slopes down to the lake. The lake next to which we spent so many hours last summer ... in the same place we got back together in May ...

"Oh," I say, as Harry grins at me. "I see. You do know it's raining, don't you? I'm not getting a wet bum, not even for you!"

"Such little faith," says Harry cheekily, pulling out his wand and conjuring two tartan rugs, the first of which he spreads on the damp grass. "After you," he says, sweeping a bow.

When we're both settled on the rug, he drapes the second one over our shoulders. "_Impervius," _he says, tapping both rugs with his wand. "There! Comfy?"

"Quite, actually," I admit, leaning my head on his shoulder. "This was a good idea."

"I'm full of them."

We sit in silence for a while, watching the rain fall on the lake surface.

"I was wondering," Harry says eventually, "if you'd been thinking what you want to do after Hogwarts?"

I consider the odd question. "No," I say after a moment or two. "I haven't. Well ... I've always wanted to play Quidditch, and when I met Gwenog Jones at Slughorn's party she said I should get in touch when I left school ..." I trail off and look at Harry. "Unless that's not what you meant."

"I did sort of mean something else," he admits. "Like ... well ..."

"Spit it out," I say teasingly.

"I've bought a house," he blurts out. "Well, not a house, it's a cottage really, it's got three bedrooms, and the plan was always for Hermione to live with us when she left Hogwarts, but she and Ron will probably share a - well, that doesn't matter, but when I was planning to come up here I thought how difficult it would be to leave and that I don't _want _to leave you. I've done that enough already. So ... what I'm trying to say, I suppose, is do you want to come and live with me?"

I don't even think about it.

"Yes," I say, laughing at the thought that he might have even considered I'd say no. "Of course I do!"

"Are you serious?" Harry asks, looking delighted. "I mean, I understand if you want to live at the Burrow, but the cottage isn't far from there and -"

"I've already said yes, Harry," I grin, leaning over, and this time it's a very long time before either of us can speak again.

**This is another product of a time when I just open up a document and start to write! It's a wee bit pointless, but I just wanted to show how content Harry and Ginny are with each other after the war - I love them! Hope it's all right ...**


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